


A Fortune in Feelings

by Flammenkobold



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Criminal husbands, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Earth-2, Fix-It, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6250129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short stories written for Coldwave week.</p><p>Day 1 - in captivity: Len would like to think quietly, someones not letting him.<br/>Day 2 - domestic life: Len and Mick being grossly domestic over breakfast (or at least as grossly as two grumpy criminals can be)<br/>Day 3 - Earth 2: Mayor Snart feels very much like Whitney Houston in Bodyguard, Michael wishes he would talk less. Unashamed fluffy smut.<br/>Day 4 - Wildcard: Only one of them gets out. That's how it's always been</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Len paces the small cell, running his mind through the heist over and over again, trying to find the point where it went wrong. Where he went wrong. There is metal clinking on metal from the other side of the wall. Just another bored inmate. Nothing unusal, but it does disrupts Len's train of thought. Just when he is about to shout, his ever churning mind catches on to the rhythm of the clinking. Morse code.

 

He listens arefully trying to get the message someone is trying to send.

 

S-T-O-P-I-T-S-N-A-R-T

 

A surprised laugh punches it's way out of his throat and he sits down on his hard bed, rapping his knuckles against the metal frame.

 

H-E-L-L-O-M-I-C-K

 

That's where his plan went wrong. There are plenty of people who can play brawns to his brain on the surface, but getting someone who gets it right, well...

 

Perhaps next time he should just wait for Mick to get out of prison first.


	2. Breakfast

"Pass me the butter, Snart," Mick grumbles and Len takes one hand off his coffee mug, to listlessly push the butter close enough for Mick to reach it. Over the rim of his mug he watches with mild fasination and disgust as Mick applies a near unhealthy amount of the butter to his toast. When Mick catches him watching he just vaguely waves the blunt knife, "want some too?"

"Just jam, Mick. Please," Len drawls into his coffee and Mick grunts.

The rest of the breakfast passes in silence. Thank god, that neither of them is a morning person.


	3. Bodyguard

"I'm feeling very much like Whitney Houston," Leonard feels the need to say and Michael just grunts, before returning to licking a wet line across the juncute between Leonard's neck and shoulder.

 

"I think Lisa will be thrilled," he continues and Michael bites the sensitive shell of his ear. "Oh fu- fudge," Leonard groans helplessly and rubs himself against the thigh between his legs. He's been wanting this for god knows how long. So far reason has always won out. It wouldn't do if the news found out that the beloved mayor of Central City was in an affair with his bodyguard. A bodyguard with a highly questionable past, should anyone bother to investigate. Lisa would love it, if only because it would pose a challenge to her, keeping her brother's career seemingly squeaky clean.

 

No amount of reasoning could've helped him, however, when Michael had looked at him with furrowed brows for minutes, before cursing expressively and pressing Leonard against the nearest wall. He'd barely given him time to voice his agreement or disagreement of the rough treatment before kissing Leonard breathless.

 

"You talk too much, boss," Michael grumbles and licks a soothing line over the ear he's just bitten, his hands squeezing Leonard's rear. It makes Leonard press back against his warm hands mindlessly, wanting to feel them on his skin. He gasps against Michael's shoulder and turns his head to the side to brush his lips over the rough stubble on Michael's cheek, silently begging for his hot mouth back on his own.

 

"Maybe you should shut me up then," he dares his bodyguard and Michael indulges him. His mouth is still as scorching as Leonard remembers it from a few minutes ago.

 

Leonard almost perpetually feels cold and his hands never seem to be able to warm up. Low blood pressure, his doctors say. Michael on the other hand always seems to run hotter than the average human being, both in temper and in body temperature.

 

As Michael keeps Leonard's mouth busy with his tongue, his hands undo Leonard's belt. His handmade dress pants proof a harder challenge and so Michael just rips the fine button off and yanks them unceremoniously down.

 

If Leonard weren't so occupied with clinging to Michael's strong shoulders, moaning helplessly around the tongue in his mouth, if he hadn't waited for this to happen for _months_ now, he might've had objections. He might be one of the most powerful men in Central City, but he isn't one of the richest, and the darn thing had been expensive. As it is, he barerly manages to kick of his own shoes and get his legs out of his his dress pants entirely.

 

Michaels hands are back at his butt cheeks pulling them apart and running his index finger over the crack between them. And there is still Leonard's underwear in the way. It doesn't stop him from pressing himself back and panting against Michael's mouth. Beause god does he want that, all of it, with almost frightening intensity.

 

"Please, please," he moans into the kiss and almost whines when Michael breaks the kiss for a moment.

 

"Please what, baby? Tell me exatly what you want."

 

"Thought I talk too much?"

 

"Only about the wrong things," Michael rumbles into his ear. "Don't need to hear about your sister when I'm about to fuck you." Michael always had a mouth on him, and no shame to profusely use expletives in every situation. It's one of the many, many things that endeared him to Leonard in the first place.

 

"That is what I want," he pants against the soft skin stretching over Michael's collarbone and gosh, his usually eloquent speech pattern has deserted him already.

 

"Tell me," Michael prompts him and gently pushes Leonard away so he can see his face. The look he gives Leonard is almost reverent. Leonard had thought it impossible for his face to heat up even more. "Come on boss," Micheal adds so unexpectedly softly. And that's another thing that endeared him to Leonard, the gentleness hidden under his otherwise hard exterior. It's all it takes for Leonard.

 

"Fuck me," he says, breathless and a little shocked about himself. He's usually one to avoid such vulgar language. "Fuck me so hard, I forget how to think."

 

As a reward, Michael draws him back in and kisses him gently, but deeply.

 

"As you wish," he murmurs against Leonard's mouth and oh, oh, Leonard thinks. So this isn't just about sex then. He presses his hands against Michael's broad chest, just enough to get a bit of space to voice his words.

 

"And Mike, afterwards, I want you to take me home and make love to me."

 

Michael gives him a blinding smile.

 

"I'd like that, Leo."


	4. Wildcard

 

"Only on of us walks out of this," the big kid said to the kid that was about to shank Leo, even though his eyes are fixed on Leo.

 

\---

 

"Only one of us walks out of this," Mick said and punched Len hard enough in the face for him to see stars. Len spits at him and tries to hit back, but Mick is on him again and the next punch has him out like a light. Mick walked out and Len later woke up to the cold and dark. Alive and scared that Mick won't return.

 

\---

 

"Only one of us walks out of this," Mick said and around them the fire burned bright and scorching. Len nodded grimly. He got out and Mick almost got consumed by his own obsession.

 

\---

 

"Only one of us walks out of this," Len drawled and cautiously eyed the gun Lewis had on him. Lisa's out cold by his feet and the anger that burned through Len is almost blinding. This must be how Mick felt far too often. Mick who's behind Lewis, his gun trained on Len's father, an ultimately useless gesture as the fuel had already depleted by Len's account. Mick who made a face, but slunk back into the shadows and got out of there.

"Only one of us walks out of here"

 

\---

 

In a forest, in the middle of nowhere, somewhere stuck in time, Len aims and takes a shot. It knocks Mick out cold.

 

\---

 

It's code, it's always been. You never know who is listening in these days, and Rip isn't a man to be trusted. A good man perhaps, in another life, but Leonard thinks that the good captain is too close to the edge.

Mick might be a wildcard at best, but he is also the most powerful card Len holds in his hands. Because no one expects Mick to act smart, to act loyal, certainly not after everything that's happened. The thing is, Mick might not always be reliable and too easily swallowed by his own obsessions, but Len knows that no matter how far he goes of the rail, eventually he snaps back.

He isn't so sure if Rip will, once he stepped over the lines he's drawn himself. So he needs someone to snap him back or to eliminate him, if need be.

And if anything, Mick is certainly capable of that. Better yet, Rip won't see him coming. Because to Rip, Mick Rory was just an unwanted accessory, a liability and someone too dumb to contemplate. Len on the other hand, knows better. Mick might not be the most intelligent, but he is smart. Had to be, to live as long as he had.

 

And on the long run Len would rather put his life in the hands of someone with Mick's smarts than Rip's intelligence

 

\---

 

Only one of them walks out, because far too often it's the only way for both of them to survive.


End file.
